Yesterday, Dan Harris featured a guest on his podcast -- who mentioned his experience at a previous Gandhi 3.0, and two volunteers in particular. So I thought I'd use that excuse to shine the light on them, a little bit. :)

Three years ago, Dacher Keltner joined Gandhi 3.0. Although he is one of the most prominent compassion researchers in the world, the scientist behind Inside Out movie, author of many books, a professor at UC Berkeley -- he fondly speaks of his "life transforming" time in India as undefinable. Surprise, surprise. :)

During many of the breaks of that 2020 retreat, Dacher could be found taking copious notes while engaged in deep conversations with two particular volunteers, Swara and Trupti -- who went on walking pilgrimage for three thousand kilometers without any money or resources, just to purify their minds, deepen their trust in the universe, and find the joy in service of everyday moments. Many in India consider it a ripening of tremendous merit to have the conditions to actually complete this sacred (and arduous) pilgrimage. Deeply moved by who they were, Dacher even interviewed them(!) under the Banyan Tree as we all listened in.

He even wrote a bit about them in his book 'Awe' (that just came out this month):

One day, at Gandhi’s ashram, we sat quietly in the sand-filled square near the Sabarmati River, where Gandhi meditated each day. We reflected in the room where he wrote at a small desk, spun wool, and took in the view of a courtyard outside. From such a modest room came vast ideas that would inspire Martin Luther King Jr. to acts of courage, which would stir Berkeley students in 1964 to free speech protests of moving in unison, which would nourish the student antiwar movement, which would pave the way in the swinging pendulum of history for Ronald Reagan’s rise to power. History so often follows the ebbs and flows of awe.

On one day of the retreat, I interviewed two sisters under the warm surround of a banyan tree, the national tree of India. Trupti Pandya, the younger sister, had read of Nipun and Guri’s pilgrimage and decided to set out on her own. Her older sister, Swara Pandya, begrudgingly came along, worried what her younger sister might do. Over five months, Trupti and Swara walked 1,600 miles along the Narmada River, called “mother,” like many rivers in India. Along the way they were fed and housed by strangers. For Trupti, our greatest illusion—the scarcity mindset of modern life—began to decay. Extraordinary experiences distilled each day. The river—its currents, reflections, swirling light, and rushes and hisses—sounded like the voice of God, telling Trupti that life is guided by “a gentle, kind force, every step of the way.” She and Swara created rituals: greeting the river each day, expressing gratitude to families who opened their cupboards to feed them. In visits to temples, Trupti held pebbles that had been touched by the feet of pilgrims. She felt moved, empowered, fearless, and alive. She now works in a shelter for young women who have been battered and abandoned. Decay, distilling, and growth.

On the last day of Gandhi 3.0, we took part in an awe walk that composted beliefs and practices from around the world. We walked around a dark, leaf-covered pool where rainwater was collected. Following Buddhist tradition, we took four steps and then bowed and touched our foreheads to the ground. Many of us touched trees as we passed by. Toward the end of this thirty minutes of silent moving in unison, volunteers invited us to take a handful of salt from a large pile—mimicking Gandhi’s own act of righteous courage. Bowing with forehead on the ground and eyes looking to the side, I made eye contact with Jayesh Patel, who directs the ESI built by his father, who was raised by two women who caught Gandhi in their arms when he was assassinated.

We then moved to a clearing where we all sat in silence. I felt touched by the sun on my right cheek and forehead. In nearby lush plants and trees, growing out of my composted waste, birds sang a web of sound; I could almost hear in their songs woo-hoo and whoa. A gentle breeze rushed down from the trees and over the grounds. I could feel myself dissolving into the bright sky, surrounded and embraced. I sensed Rolf [my deceased brother] smiling and spread out in the sky and distributed in the light. In relation to something beyond words. Redeeming something wild in the universe. And kind.

(For those interested, here is Dacher's interview on Dan Harris's podcast, themed around the science of 'awe' --  and the informal retreat part goes from 50:42 to 54:12.)

Just a little glimpse into multitudes behind two of the volunteers behind the scenes.